Overdue Justice

by M A Comley

  “Do I? I’m getting the impression that Katy doesn’t really want the job. She has a young family to consider. Is it really the right step for her?”

  “That never stopped me in the past. You can’t be seriously doubting her abilities, not at this late stage. Fight the super on this one, otherwise I have to tell you, I think the whole team will implode. They respect Katy. No one appreciates someone new coming in and stirring things up.”

  “Before I do that, are you a hundred percent sure Katy wants to take over your role?”

  “Yes. Oh, she might complain about it, but with her, it’s all a front. You’d be foolish to pass her over for someone else, an unknown at that.” His eyes sparkled with laughter. “Crap, are you pulling my leg?”

  “Not exactly. What I’m trying to do is make you see sense. I’m forcing you to see that you still care about what happens to the team. Now that I’ve done that, why don’t you stay? Guide this ship for years to come. If you leave now, she’ll sink into oblivion, just like the Titanic.”

  “You’re a nasty piece of work, Sean Roberts, you always have been, and I can’t see that changing in the future either. Even if you did, I wouldn’t be around to see it. This time, I swear to you, my resignation is final. Anyway, the forms have been sent off to complete my pension.”

  He cocked an eyebrow and grinned. “Have they? Would those be the same forms sitting on my desk awaiting my signature?”

  Her mouth dropped open again, and her heart raced. “You bastard, are you telling me you haven’t actioned them yet?”

  “I might be. You’ll never know.”

  She turned on her heel and marched back into the station, her pain forgotten as she climbed the stairs. At the top, instead of turning left to the incident room, she went right and continued to stride down the corridor. When she opened the door, Trisha, Sean’s secretary, glanced up, startled by the intrusion.

  “Hello, Inspector. I’m afraid DCI Roberts isn’t…” her voice trailed off when Sean piled into the office behind Lorne.

  By this time, Lorne had opened his door and continued her journey to his desk. It didn’t take her long to find what she was looking for. She picked up a pen and ordered, “Sign it, or I’ll forge your signature. Lord knows how many times I’ve had to do that over the years.”

  “What?” he cried in disbelief.

  “Do it, Sean. Don’t make me ring Tony and get him down here to sort you out. You know he’s been biding his time on that one.”

  “Has he? That’s news to me.”

  Lorne growled. “I have two words to say to you, Sean.”

  He smirked. “Don’t tell me, the second one is off.”

  She flung her arms out to the sides and then slapped them against her thighs. “Let’s just say you have a short memory. Two words: Emma Lansbury.”

  Embarrassment covered his features. He remained silent.

  But Lorne wasn’t finished with him yet. “You know, Tony and I were the only ones willing to help you when your goddaughter was kidnapped. We put Tony’s life savings up for the ransom, and this is the way you treat me? You make me frigging sick! Call yourself a damn friend?” She’d had enough. If she stayed in that office a moment longer, she’d end up either giving him a black eye or kneeing him in the crotch.

  She was at the door before he managed to find his voice. “I’m sorry, Lorne. You must think I’m a right shit.”

  “That’s one word for it, although I had something far nastier going through my mind. Just sign the damn paper, Sean. Do your job, or I’ll do mine and report you to the super. That’s a promise, not a threat, by the way.”

  She heard the ruffling of paper behind her. “Here, it’s done. Lorne, forgive me, our friendship means too much to me.”

  “Maybe you should have thought about that before. I have work to do. You’ve wasted enough of my valuable time already today.” She stormed out of the office and found a gobsmacked Trisha sitting at her desk, staring at her.

  In the hallway, she couldn’t help chuckling to herself. Sean Roberts had toyed with her emotions once too often over the years. It was about time she retaliated, although she had surprised herself by the ferociousness of the attack. Her face was still flushed by the time she arrived back in the incident room. Katy glanced her way and raised a questioning eyebrow as she walked towards her. Lorne headed for the whiteboard and picked up a marker pen.

  “Oh my God, look at you. Is that anger I see in your eyes? He didn’t try it on with you again, did he?”

  “Nope. It’s not what you think. The bastard was refusing to sign off my early retirement, so I gave him a few home truths. Bugger, I didn’t hold back either. I feel a right bitch now.”

  “Don’t! I think I would have done the same if I were in your shoes. What gives him the right to try and play God with your life?”

  Lorne sighed and smiled. “Thanks, partner, I needed to hear that.”

  “Anytime. You’ll be needing a coffee to calm you down.”

  “I’ll never say no to one of them. I’ll make a start on the board.”

  Katy fetched the coffees and drew everyone’s attention. The team gathered around, angling their chairs to face Lorne and Katy at the front of the room.

  “Right, let’s discuss what we’ve found out about the victim so far. I know it’s not much, but I’d like to get it down on the board all the same. Denis Tallon was found with his intestines hanging out and other extensive injuries at his flat earlier today. His penis was dangling from his mouth.” She turned to see the men in the room shift uncomfortably in their seats. “Katy and I came to the conclusion we could be looking at a female perpetrator on this one. A woman with a specific agenda in mind perhaps? What that is, we’ve yet to find out. I need everyone working their butts off to find out more about Denis Tallon. At the moment, it’s all a little sketchy. What we do know is that he was a builder. I would probably put him down as more of an odd-job man myself. He also frequented the pub on the corner of his street daily. Katy and I will be visiting the pub later to see if we can find out more. One of the neighbours, a Paul Fletcher, told us everything we know thus far about the victim. He mentioned that he’s been divorced for over twenty years and he doesn’t think there has been a woman in his life since then. Personally, I find that hard to believe, therefore, we need to see if Mr Tallon had any form of record for kerb crawling. Call it a hunch, okay? Stephen, can you track down any CCTV footage around his address? Let’s see if we can pick up the killer on those if possible. I’ve arranged the usual media conference which is due to take place within the next hour, so we’ll all need to man the phones on that one. Karen, I need you to find out more about Denis Tallon, i.e. his former employers, previous address, anything along those lines. I also need you to find out if he had any family in the area. They’ll need to be told, preferably before the appeal is aired. Also, look up his ex-wife, see if there are any kids and possible maintenance issues there.”

  Karen jotted down some notes and tapped her pen on the pad when she’d finished. “I’ll get on it right away, boss.”

  “Anyone have any contacts on the street around that area?”

  The team all shook their heads.

  “That’s a shame, I was hoping for a different answer on that one. Okay, anyone else got any suggestions?”

  Graham raised a finger in the air. “What about a possible drug connection, boss, given the area he was found in? I know that block of flats has been highlighted for crimes of that nature recently.”

  “Okay, again, that’s worth delving into. It might explain why a few of the neighbours weren’t keen on talking to us. That reminds me, I need to get on to the council, too.” She clapped to end the meeting then made her way back into her office. She lowered herself gingerly into the chair and closed her eyes briefly as a slight pain rippled through her abdomen. Bugger, when is this pain going to bloody end? I hope it doesn’t end up hampering the case. She inhaled a large breath and rang her contact at the council. “Brenda, h
i, it’s Lorne Simpkins. How are you?” she asked, announcing herself to her friend with her old name so as not to confuse her.

  “Hey, long time no hear. I’m fine most days. How are you? I bet Charlie is all grown up now, isn’t she?”

  Lorne smiled. Brenda always found it in her heart to mention Charlie. “She’s twenty-two now and in the police, the K9 division, and doing really well as far as I can gather. How are your mum and dad?”

  “Sadly, Dad passed away last year. Mum’s declining because her heart broke when he went. It’s to be expected; they were married for over fifty years. Anyway, what can I do for you? I know how busy you are.”

  “My condolences, I didn’t know about your dad. I would have attended the funeral had I known.”

  “Mum didn’t want a fuss. It was just family members on the day.”

  “Ah, I see. Sorry to hear about your mum. Tell her I said hi when you next see her.”

  “I will. She lives with us now. That way I can keep a closer eye on her.”

  “Good idea. Okay, I’m in need of a slight favour from you, if you can help out?”

  “I’ll do my best. I know it has to be something major for you to come knocking on my door, so to speak. What’s up?”

  She relayed the purpose of her call in the hope that Brenda might miraculously find more suitable accommodation for the old lady whom she’d met that morning.

  “Oh gosh, that poor woman. The system really is up the creek when they assign accommodation to people of a certain age who struggle to walk. Can you leave it with me for a day or two? Hopefully I’ll come back with some good news soon.”

  “You’re a star. I can’t thank you enough for this. Speak soon, I have a murderer to hunt down.”

  “Good luck, Lorne, it was lovely catching up, if only briefly.”

  “Take care, Brenda.” Lorne hung up and relaxed back in her chair, a feeling of positivity shooting through her at the prospect of her old friend finding the old lady a new home soon, especially in light of what Graham had just brought up about the flats during the meeting.

  Next on her agenda was to make a few notes ready for the media circus that accompanied every murder on her patch. She couldn’t help wondering how many more she’d have to make before her retirement kicked in. Not many, she hoped.

  She left the office forty minutes later and consulted with the team. Karen had managed to trace the ex-wife of the victim and found out that she hadn’t had anything to do with Denis since they’d parted twenty years previously. She was devastated to hear about his death, sounded genuine enough to Karen not to warrant chasing her further, which was enough for Lorne. Stephen had learnt that Denis was a builder with Taylor Wimpey homes until five years earlier. Lorne shuddered, thinking about the case they had recently solved, regarding a couple of murderous builders playing havoc on their patch. “Chase that up for me, Stephen. Ask the usual questions, see if he fell out with anyone while onsite.”

  “Will do, boss.”

  “If there’s nothing else, I’ll see you guys in a few minutes, wish me luck.” She left the incident room and descended the stairs slowly, annoyed that the old building couldn’t have a lift installed. Still, a couple more weeks and it wouldn’t matter to her. She entered the designated media conference room and took her seat behind the desk. She drew the journalists’ attention, and the murmuring died down. She cleared her throat and announced why she had called the conference. The journalists listened patiently as she told them the facts which her team knew about the case so far, keeping from them the nature of the victim’s injuries as she always did in cases such as this. Then she opened the floor up to questions.

  “What was the motive, Inspector?” a young ginger-haired reporter threw at her.

  “At this point, we don’t know. It’s still too early in our investigation for that to be highlighted yet. Next? Yes, Moira?”

  “I was just going to ask if there had been any similar crimes in the area recently, Inspector Warner.”

  “Not with the same MO, and before you ask, no, I can’t go into the gruesome way the victim died. Let’s just say it wasn’t pleasant. Anyone else got an important question they want to get off their chest?” Lorne asked, for some reason feeling chattier than she normally did during a conference.

  The journalists bombarded her with a few sensible questions and a number of dull ones which took her around twenty minutes to answer. She rounded things up by urging the general public to step forward if they had any information about the crime or if they knew anyone associated with Denis Tallon.

  Once the conference ended, she went back upstairs to the incident room. At the top of the stairs, she found Sean waiting for her.

  “How did it go?” His tone was neutral, as if what had taken place between them earlier hadn’t happened.

  If he was willing to let bygones be bygones, then why shouldn’t she? Because he’s a prick and hurt you, that’s why!

  “As well as could be expected.”

  “Good. I’ve sent the form off via internal mail. It should reach them this afternoon. Sorry, Lorne.”

  “There’s no need for you to apologise. Glad you’ve seen the error of your ways and done the right thing in the end. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a killer to find.”

  She spun away from him. He grabbed her arm, preventing her from leaving. She glanced down at his hand until he released her.

  “Can we draw a line under this, Lorne? The last thing I want is for us to part as enemies.”

  “So what’s new there, Sean? Are you forgetting how annoyingly obstructive you’ve been over the years? It’s only these past few years that you’ve treated me with any respect. You know what? I’m done with this. I have more important things to do rather than rake over old ground with you. I’ll be out of your hair soon enough.”

  He shook his head, and his eyes watered. She soon realised she’d overstepped the mark and regretted her harsh words immediately; however, the need to voice an apology failed her. Instead, she continued her journey to the incident room and let out a relieved sigh.

  “How did it go?” Katy asked.

  “The usual. We’ve got to sit back and wait for the phones to ring now. That won’t happen until later afternoon, I suspect. Have I missed anything?”

  She circulated the room and gathered snippets of information from each of them. “Any luck with the CCTV footage yet?”

  Stephen glanced up and made a face at her. “Sorry, boss. I couldn’t get one close enough to the flats. Two streets away is the best I can do.”

  Lorne ran a hand over her face. “Bugger. Maybe we’ve come to rely too much on CCTV solving our cases recently. Okay, you tried. Don’t let it get to you, Stephen.”

  The rest of the afternoon dragged by, with none of the information that had come their way making a jot of difference to the investigation. At five, Lorne and Katy set off, back to the murder scene, or close by at least. They dropped in to The Dragon’s Lair and introduced themselves to the pub landlord.

  James Marks was a man in his early forties. What remained of his hair was a light sandy colour. He greeted them with a cautious smile. “Hello, ladies, what can I do for you today?”

  “We’d like a chat about one of your customers, if that’s okay?”

  “Fire away, I can spare you a few minutes. It’s early doors yet. The locals tend to descend on us around five-thirty. What do you want to know?”

  “Does the name Denis Tallon ring a bell?” Lorne asked, watching the man’s reaction carefully.

  “Yes, I know Denis, he’s in here most days. Come to think of it, now that you mention his name, I don’t think I’ve laid eyes on him since maybe Wednesday or Thursday of last week. What’s he done? Has your lot banged him up for something?” He roared, laughing at his own inane joke.

  Lorne stared at him. “Denis was found murdered in his flat today, and no, I wouldn’t regard this as a laughing matter, Mr Marks, would you?”

  He leaned against the bar as if n
eeding its support. “Jesus, sorry for larking around. Of course I didn’t mean anything by it. I hadn’t heard about his death.”

  “The jungle drums a bit slow in these parts, is that what you’re saying?”

  “They obviously are in this instance. Murdered, you say? Why? Who did it, do you know?”

  “Not yet, and the motive is unclear to us. When was the last time you saw him?”

  He tutted. “Either Wednesday or Thursday, I can’t be more definite than that. Apart from the weekends when we’re stretched to the limits around here, every day feels the same. If it wasn’t for the calendar sitting in my office and the records of the takings I keep, I wouldn’t even know what month it is, let alone what day of the week it is.”

  “I understand. When you last saw him, was he with anyone?”

  “The usual crowd. They sit at the round table over there. A couple of them are in place already—those are Len and Jeff. They’ll probably be able to answer your questions more than I can.”

  “We’ll have a chat with them in a few minutes. Did Denis ever meet up with members of the opposite sex in here?”

  “Denis? With a woman? Never. He was adamant he wasn’t going down that route again after one failed marriage. He always spoke disparagingly about his experience. We used to rib him, ask where he sowed his oats now. A man has got needs and all that, right?”

  “If you say so, and his response was?”

  “Nope. Said if he never laid eyes on another woman in this life it wouldn’t bother him.”

  “I see. Are you saying the select group only consists of men?”

  “That’s right. Most of them are either married or dating someone, though Denis was the only one who was single, if I recall off the top of my head. Bloody hell, I can’t believe he’ll never walk through that door again. I’ll miss the old fella.”

  “I don’t suppose you have any cameras, do you? Either inside the bar or out in the car park?” She glanced around but didn’t spot any.